


Light in the Storm

by fractalgeometry



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Through The Ages (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Happy Ending, Hugs, M/M, Metaphors, Other, Pining, Poetic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:47:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25842316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fractalgeometry/pseuds/fractalgeometry
Summary: Thousands of years, Aziraphale has been a lighthouse for Crowley. Something bright in the distance, but something that he must keep his distance from because he would smash himself against the rocks if given half a chance. Aziraphale's presence is wonderful, but also a constant warning that he could go too far and then only wreckage remains. But after six thousand years, he realizes that if Aziraphale is a lighthouse, he is one that is meant to help guide him home.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	Light in the Storm

**Author's Note:**

> This fic exists because [Bookwormgal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookwormgal/pseuds/Bookwormgal) wrote what is now the summary of this work and then said other people could “take the metaphor and run with it”. And because my brain decided that was a challenge (and I was intrigued by the premise), I took the metaphor and ran with it. Here’s where it took me.
> 
> Aziraphale, Crowley, the plot of Good Omens, and anything else I’ve pulled from canon are not mine. My writing is. I’m just playing (with great enjoyment) in this world created by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett.

The angel is a light, shining and brilliant on the wall, and Crawly is drawn to him, like a ship drawn to a lighthouse. 

Aziraphale is a lighthouse, and Crawly finds him again and again over the years, the centuries, the millennia. Aziraphale is a lighthouse, and when Crawly sees him, he is, for a moment (or hour, or evening), no longer lost in the rolling sea that is time and humanity. 

Aziraphale is a lighthouse, and a lighthouse warns of rocks, of danger. Aziraphale is a lighthouse, and Crowley knows that if he steers too close, he will crash, wreck himself on the rocks. If he hits the wrong rock he will explode on impact, destroy the lighthouse along with him.

Aziraphale is a lighthouse, and Crowley circles around him, dancing closer, pulling away. Aziraphale is a lighthouse, a single point in a storm, a warning, a protective force. Crowley can never look away.

Aziraphale is a lighthouse, and Crowley circles closer, closer, hating the warning, drawn to the light. Aziraphale is a lighthouse, and Crowley is a ship, lost at sea but for the glowing beam. 

Aziraphale is a lighthouse, and Crowley is a ship, and the storm is growing worse and worse, enough to smash the ship. Enough to crumble the lighthouse. Aziraphale is a lighthouse, and Crowley pushes toward it, but the light flashes  _ warning, warning, _ and Crowley pulls back.

Aziraphale was a lighthouse, and he is gone. Aziraphale was a lighthouse, and Crowley is lost at sea, tossed by the storm, surrounded by darkness. Crowley is a ship, and his lighthouse is nowhere to be found, and he is lost.

Crowley is a ship, and a light is shining through the fog and the spray. Crowley is a ship, and he sails straight for the light, heedless of the storm, of the danger, straining for a glimpse of his lighthouse.

Aziraphale is a lighthouse, and Crowley sees him in the gloom. Aziraphale is a lighthouse, and Crowley forgets the warning, forgets the rocks, forgets the danger. His lighthouse is shining through the storm, a destination, a marker, a beacon.

Aziraphale is a lighthouse, and Crowley hits no rocks near his base. Aziraphale is a lighthouse, and Crowley sails closer still, blinded by victory, by joy at seeing the familiar beam. 

Aziraphale is a lighthouse, and not all lighthouses are a warning. Aziraphale is a lighthouse, and his light signifies safety, and love, and protection. The storm is quiet at his base, the waves gentle. There are no rocks.

Aziraphale is a lighthouse, and Crowley has been circling him for millennia. Aziraphale is a lighthouse, and lighthouses guide ships home. Crowley sails toward his lighthouse bravely, its light guiding him home.

Crowley steps onto the island, falls into his angel’s arms, and refuses to leave. Aziraphale wraps his arms around his demon and refuses to let go. 

There are no crashes. There are no explosions. The wind is quiet. The waves are gentle. 

Aziraphale is a lighthouse, and Crowley is a ship. Sometimes a lighthouse is a warning. Sometimes a lighthouse guides a ship home. 

Crowley is home. Aziraphale will never be a warning again.


End file.
